


i want to die in style!

by sevenzeroseven



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 13:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16855087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenzeroseven/pseuds/sevenzeroseven
Summary: kaneki and touka have one last talk before the anteiku raid. [set around TG chapter 120]





	i want to die in style!

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this short piece 2 years ago of an alternate/additional scenario between kaneki and touka prior to the end of the original TG manga/the anteiku raid after we got more insight into kaneki's Fucked Up POV during that period from TG:re. ive decided to transfer it to ao3 very late into the game (post-series lol....) but thx for reading to anyone who takes a gander & hope u enjoy ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

When she finds him, he's alone with a cup of coffee and a brooding look that doesn't suit him. The idiot grin suits him better, but she doesn't know when she'll see it again. The thought is heavy, and she has to sit down. Not at his table, no. She isn't quite ready for that yet, but the movement catches his attention, and he looks up, startled.

"Touka-chan..." he murmurs. He looks tired. His eyes are a little glazed over; his hair has gotten a little longer—and  _wilder_. It doesn't suit him, she thinks again, and remembers when she'd messed it up to spread lies at the CCG. It didn't suit him then either, but it was funny. Now it isn't, and her stomach knots uncomfortably. She doesn't know what to say, so she says nothing and quietly notes that the coffee's gone cold on the table. It seems he hasn't touched it.

"I spoke with the manager."

Touka's eyes shift to the floorboards, and she laces her fingers above the table. There's electricity running down her spine; it feels like starvation, but maybe it's relief. She's glad theirs isn't a soap opera reunion. (But at the same time, she kind of wishes it was.)

"Touka-chan, do think you'll ever have kids?"

The question blindsides her, and she nearly chokes on nothing. But the answer is automatic; the speed at which she replies seems more surprising to him than the question is to her.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they'll be ghouls."

Kaneki's smile makes her chest hurt, but her expression is drawn into a frown, and her eyes are severe. She stares him down until he looks away, fingers kneading into the fabric of his shirt.

"I think you should. I think you should marry and have kids and lead a normal life."

Touka scoffs. "That's impossible. It's been impossible ever since I was born."

"But you're trying, right? You're applying to school, aren't you?"

She stiffens ever so slightly and almost blurts that she's applying to Kamii, and he's the shit reason she wants to go there. (That maybe—just maybe—if she does, he'll come back.)

But the bell above the door interrupts them.

"Kaneki-kun~"

She growls at who enters. Kaneki is standing before she can say anything, brushing by her as though she's invisible.

Suddenly, she snaps. "Kaneki!"

Her chair falls from the force, but she's too preoccupied to care. He's walking away a second time, and she wants to say something—anything—but her mouth runs dry.

Maybe—

_don't die_

—but instead, "Live. Promise me you'll live."

Her hands are balled into fists so tight she can hardly keep from shaking. Short nails dig into her palms, and  _fuck_ , she hates the look on her face when she's about to cry. It's why she ran the first time, but she's standing her ground now, head lowered with bangs covering blurry eyes. She faces the ground because she can't face him and watches the hardwood swim.

He says nothing, and that makes her angrier. She deserves  _something_ , doesn't she? She deserves—

"See you later, Touka-chan."

She flies at him before she can stop herself, RC sharps ripping new wounds into his shoulder.

She distantly hears Tsukiyama's ingratiating voice somewhere from the side. "Kaneki-kun!"

But Kaneki holds out a hand, and the older male stops. Tsukiyama is not happy. He's scowling. Good. Tsukiyama doesn't deserve that much of Kaneki's consideration, but she thinks—she's always thought—

He dodges and dodges until he's pushed himself into a corner. The shattering glass and tipping chairs don't stop her. She's angry. She wants answers. She wants him  _back_ , but he's a self-centered brat who can't even promise he won't kill himself.

(Because she finally realizes what that look in his eye is. She's seen in before. It's too familiar.

_I'm so tired._

_I want to die._ )

She grabs him by the collar, and if he looks regretful at the tear stains on her chin, she doesn't notice. When words fail, her knees buckle; she falls clutching his shirt while her kagune hovers over them like the damn sun. It's all she can do to keep him from brushing her aside again even though she knows he doesn't need her anymore. He's surpassed her.

She wishes he'd never fucking  _touched_ her. Maybe if she never knew how warm he was, she could have forgotten him.

"I'll protect you."

_Don't_. She chokes. Not if it means losing you. I don't want to lose you too.

"I'll protect you," he repeats, and his voice is so kind and warm and _disgusting_.

_You can't even protect yourself, idiot._


End file.
